Lonely Millionaire (18 page)

"Why not?" He outlined the edge of her apron with his fingers, burning a trail along the top then the sides of her breasts.

She held perfectly still, while the meat sizzled in the pan behind her. She was aching to have him hold her, to feel his body against has. She should be watching the pot, but it might be the last time, the last time she saw him, the last kiss. She tilted her head and his lips met hers, warm, firm and demanding. She was flooded with desire, a pounding need she couldn't explain or deny.

His fingers fumbled with her apron ties, the apron fell to the floor. His hands spanned her ribs and cupped the warm fullness of her breasts through her soft cotton shirt.

She was on fire. She wanted nothing more than to tear off her clothes and his, too, to lead him to her room and let the world go on without than. But she couldn't. There were guests and dinner. She broke away. She was breathing hard and so was he. He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head.

"I'll serve the salad," she said.

"Wait." He turned her around by the shoulders so her back was to him. Then he swiped the apron from the floor and tied it around her waist. Next he lifted the curls that brushed her shoulders and kissed the back of her neck. The scent of her hair brought back memories and all be wanted was to carry her up to the bedroom where he'd once slept, where she'd served him breakfast in bed, and make love to her all night long while the waves pounded the shore below and the salt air drifted in the windows.

But there was someone else in that room now. He'd missed his chance. It was gone, over, done with. He'd had his opportunity, before Jack, before his boss had claimed him, and he'd blown it. He watched her go into the dining room and he was filled with an unbearable sadness, as if he might never see her again, even though he knew she'd be back in a moment. He shouldn't have come. He couldn't handle these ups and downs anymore.

But somehow be got through the dinner. When it was over and the dishes were done, Mandy collapsed on the couch in the living room and Adam stood at the front door. If he left now, he might miss Jack. But if he left now, he'd have to say goodbye to Mandy forever. He gripped the door handle and someone turned it from the outside.

Jack walked in the door and stared openmouthed at Adam. Adam grabbed his hand and shook it. "You must be Jack," he said loudly, with a meaningful edge to his voice.

Adam's eyes narrowed. It made sense to leave now. But seeing Mandy ensconced on the couch, her gaze drifting between himself and Jack, he couldn't do it. Not until he got some sense of what, if anything, was going on.

"Don't go," Mandy said, and that cinched it. He closed the front door and leaned back against it. Jack took the chair next to the fireplace and stretched his legs out in front of him. He looked so comfortable Adam wanted to strangle him.

"She looks all right to me," Jack said. "In fact, she looks just about perfect." Jack shot Mandy an appreciative glance that Adam didn't appreciate at all. In fact, it made him feel sick.

"If you two will excuse me," Mandy said suddenly, rising from the couch, "I'm going to bed. It’s been a long day and I'll leave you to reminisce about the Yukon. Help yourselves to some sherry." And with a polite smile she went down the hall to her bedroom.

"She wasn't fine when I got here. She was overwhelmed and overworked. Where were you when she needed somebody?" Adam stalked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of sherry.

Jack studied his friend for a long moment. "You really like her, don't you?"

"Of course I like her, don't you?" Adam demanded. "Because if you don't, tell her now. I don't want her hurt again."

Adam sat on the arm of the couch. "The truth, from the beginning? How you lied about being a millionaire, how I wrote the letters, how I came down here to spy on her? Are you crazy?" he demanded in a loud whisper.

"Maybe," Jack admitted, "but what’s the alternative?"

"The alternative," Adam said, draining his glass, "is for you to marry Mandy and live happily ever after. She doesn't need to know how it really happened. She just needs someone to love her, to help her, to give her back the confidence she lost when she got dumped the last time."

Jack angled his head for a different view of his friend. "I don't see it that way. I see her as a woman who's got love to give, who can give a man the confidence he needs. I see her as the woman I described in my ad, warm, sensuous, understanding, with good math skills to boot."

Jack shook his head wearily. "Okay, okay. I admit I don't know anything about love and marriage. If I did, I'd be happily married by now. But I know one thing, you can't have a relationship based on lies. So if you don't tell Mandy the truth, I will."

Adam's heart pounded. "You can't. You won't."

"I can. I will," Jack said. "Unless you do."

Adam forced himself to stand straight, to give the blood a chance to return to his heart and circulate through his body. He couldn't do it, couldn't tell her, couldn't stand to hurt her. But he couldn't stand to have Jack tell her, either.

"How do you think I feel? A few weeks ago I had a hundred prospects. Now I have none. Where did I go wrong? I've got a million dollars and no hang-ups like you do about the challenge of the Yukon or the dangers of marriage, nothing to prove. I'm free to live wherever I want. I love kids. I help old people across the street, and I'm sensitive and caring. The ultimate modern man. But does it do me any good? Has it got me a wife?"

Jack hunkered down into the depths of the big, stuffed chair and dosed his eyes. For the first time that night Adam looked at his friend with sympathy. He'd been so immersed in his own misery, it hadn't occurred to him that Jack might be suffering, too. He felt like a self-centered jerk. If Jack was a man for today, then Adam was stuck in the seventies, the selfish, me generation.

Jack didn't let him continue. He shook hands with Adam and then he went back inside the house without another word. Adam stood in front of the house for a long time, listening to the sound of the sea in the distance, holding the box of letters in his hands until his fingers were numb. Then he drove home to the big house with the noisy, cantankerous bird, wishing he'd never written to Mandy. He wished he had never answered a single letter so Jack would have answered them.

Life was so simple before she'd come into his life, so simple and so empty. Maybe she felt the same way about him. Maybe she wished he'd never come into her life, either. If she didn't now, she would as soon as she heard the truth. When would that be? It had to be soon, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

Chapter Nine

"An honest-to-goodness millionaire, whom you've come to know and respect through countless letters, appears in person and asks you to marry him and you turn him down?" Her normally well-modulated voice was dangerously close to a shriek. "What was wrong with him?"

"Nothing. I just don't love him."

"You don't love him. How could you tell? He was only here a few days. Besides, marrying for love is vastly overrated. There are no guarantees that love will last. But a million dollars lasts a long time if you invest it properly. Did you give the poor guy a chance?"

"I think so. Sit down and try one of these."

"I can't. I'm too upset. Let me get this straight. There are two men in your life, right? And they're both from the Yukon."

"Wrong. There are no men in my life, from the Yukon or anywhere else." Mandy pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. She removed a muffin from the tin and held it up. "What do you think, tall enough?"

Laurie whirled on her heels. "Tall enough? The man was over six feet, and... oh, you mean the muffin."

Mandy smiled in spite of her heavy heart "Honestly, you have a one-track mind. There are other things in the world besides men. If there weren't, I'd be in bad shape."

Laurie crossed her arms over her chest. "But you're in good shape, excellent shape, which is why all these men are beating a path to your door. Don't tell me you think it's because of your blueberry muffins?"

"As you know, the vast majority of my visitors are couples who have yet to notice my shape or anything about me. They come for the view, the romantic atmosphere, and maybe even for my outstanding muffins, which you haven't even tried."

"Which one do you like best?" Laurie asked.

"That’s what I was going to ask you," Mandy explained.

Laurie narrowed her eyes. "Well, I didn't see Jack, but I thought Adam was awfully cute. On the other hand, he's not as rich as Jack and that has got to be a factor."

Mandy shook her head in dismay. "I was talking about the muffins. Whether you like bran or blueberry better. Do you ever think about anything but men?"

"Don't tell me you don't think about men. Don't tell me you weren't interested in Adam. And don't tell me there wasn't something going on between you two." Laurie took the chair on the other side of the table and propped her d- bows on the table. "There was so much electricity in the air that night I was afraid of getting singed. And what about the next morning, the grass stains on your pants and on his? How do you explain those?"

"You want me to explain the grass stains?" Mandy asked as if she'd been asked to explain the theory of relativity.

"If you can."

Mandy threw up her hands. "All right. Adam and I had a picnic in the Napa Valley, where there are rolling hills covered with grass."

Laurie sighed loudly. "If you won't admit to me how you feel about him, then you're not admitting it to yourself. But I think the reason you turned Jack down has something to do with how you feel about Adam."